Longing
by RhondaStar
Summary: The first summer after Charles & Elsie wed and Carson heads to London with the family. They exchange letters during their time apart.
1. Chapter 1

_**I wanted to do a simple, sweet, canon-story and this has floated around in my head for a while. Letters between our newly weds. Hope you enjoy xx**_

* * *

 **1.**

May, 1925

Dear Mrs. Hughes,

The journey was an uneventful one, and I was relieved to find the house stands in better condition than one would imagine after so many months closed up, and now without a skeleton staff to maintain it through the winter months. There is dust, of course, as you might expect, and everything needs a thorough going over. I have drawn up duties for the week ahead and, with a good wind behind us, things might just be in place for the family's arrival a week on Wednesday.

London is as fast-moving and exhilarating as ever, and the streets throng with artists and entertainers and those looking to indulge in all the history and education such a city has to offer. I myself am hoping to find Thursday afternoon free, if this is the case I may take a sojourn in one or two of the close-by museums before things become too hectic.

I have yet to open Ulysses and I am still somewhat sceptical that it is the type of novel I will enjoy, though I accept your argument, if I have not even read a chapter I cannot judge – and so, I will, as they say, give it a go. I wonder if you have had chance to read 'Queen Victoria' yet? I found it such an enchanting book.

I hope all is well at Downton and you yourself too – I wish nothing more.

With fondest wishes,

Your husband, Charles Carson.


	2. Chapter 2

**2.**

May 1925

Dear Charles, I am so glad to know you arrived safely, and very happy to receive your letter – although I might remind you it is perfectly acceptable to use the telephone now for our communications. I would rather enjoy hearing your voice.

Life at Downton continues as always; Anna is joyful and vibrant, which brings me joy too. The flowers too are in bloom, I know you enjoy the evening walk to the cottage for the fresh air but I feel you would particularly find pleasure in the fragrance of the roses that have opened beside our front door. I shall try to press one for you.

Of course things are a flurry of activity as we prepare the last of the luggage and I will not lie, I am looking forward to the silence and solitude of the summer. The house is still and sombre when closed up, but I rather enjoy this time, practically as it lends itself to the much needed thorough clean. Yet beyond that, I like the lull of the days, things slow down for a moment and I often feel I can breathe again, and read, of course I do intend to read. I have one or two new books ordered, which I hope to collect on my trip into the town next week, and I will of course read your recommendation.

Do tell me of your trips to the museums, I enjoy your stories.

With fondest regards and affection,

Elsie Carson.


	3. Chapter 3

**3.**

May, 1925

Dear Elsie,

I feel I must open this letter with an apology at my remiss; to call you Mrs. Hughes is habit and one that is not easily shaken, as you know. Though I do not wish to offend, in any way, I of course think of you first and foremost as Mrs. Carson, or rather Elsie. I write this in the early hours of the morning and one might feel I am tired after a late party, the first of the season, and already onto my second Brandy, a rare treat. Still, I enjoy the sensation of writing your name, _Elsie_. The even slope of the letters, the symmetry and sound of it. I imagine the letters upon my tongue and think of you as I write.

Events are already in full swing and to be back in the thrum of it all is wonderful. How I have missed it all, the standards, the demand for excellence. I feel myself coming to life with it, if that isn't too lordly of an exclamation.

After your promise, I have read chapter one of the book you gave me, I am not sure I will persevere, I find it quite jarring in style and the tone is quite unnerving. Modern literature seems to me about causing scandals, there were days when to write such things would be heresy. The same could be said of the increasing interest in the world of film. I know you would laugh off my concerns, I still recall our debates about the radio, and I do realise to the young staff I must see somewhat of a dinosaur. Things change, and not all in a bad way, which might shock you to hear me admit. Though not all changes are for the best. Still, I will leave that for another time and seek sleep. Once again my apologies for not writing sooner, the family were here by the time I received your letter and I have not had a moment to myself.

With deepest affection,

Charles Carson.


	4. Chapter 4

**4.**

Late May 1925

Dear Charles,

I have had more than a moment to myself. Tonight, I walked in the meadow behind our home, the grass has grown tall and thin and the fragrance of honeysuckle hung around me. The nights are lengthening and it was fair until late, though the air is growing warm, and I enjoyed the silence of it all. Or rather, the hum of the earth, the breeze in the grass, the chirping of birds in the trees.

The cottage remains cool, and I am beginning to settle to being here alone. It is folly of me to admit, but I found it rather unnerving to be out here alone once you had gone, but now I am glad to say I am growing used to it. You would not be pleased were you here for I am breaking your rules and soaking my feet in the sitting room, I have opened a bottle of white wine and am sitting in your chair as I write, a bowl of tepid water to rest my toes in. I do hope you are finding time to rest.

Tomorrow I shall begin the task of having all of the drapery removed and cleaned. It is one of the largest tasks we have to complete and is time consuming and often tedious, though the results will be worth it. Mr. Mason has invited Mrs. Patmore and I to lunch on Sunday and with nothing else pressing I believe we shall go, though I rather feel I will be something of a gooseberry, whether you wish to deny there is anything happening or not.

Do not give a second thought to the use of 'Mrs. Hughes', it was quickly read and quickly overlooked. Although I do take some pleasure in imagining you lingering over my name, after your resistance to use it only a few months ago. Indeed, how the world can change.

Goodnight Mr. Carson,

Your wife, Elsie.


	5. Chapter 5

**5.**

June, 1925

Dear Elsie,

My sincere thanks in sending the requested items by train. How silly of Nanny to overlook such favourites of the children. As always, your organisation and ability to get a job done quickly is impressive and much appreciated.

The weather here has drifted from the fine crispness of spring into the heady mist of summer. It is warming and not pleasantly. As you know, I do so enjoy London, but warm nights quickly become cloying in a city such as this and I miss the air of the country. I would not say this out loud you understand, indeed it is overly sentimental of me to admit it now, but I have found that with every passing summer season I find I miss the rhythm of country life more and more. And, may I be brave enough to say, I miss you, my dear. It has only been mere months since our blessed wedding day but life with you has settled into a rhythm also, a most natural and welcome one, and I miss our evening conversations by the fire in our little parlour.

I am glad of Moseley, of all people, he has been steadfast and resourceful and is a real strength at present. As the season busies I find I am relying on him to _pick up the slack_ of the younger staff who are not used to such exertions. I really must insist on further training when we return in the Autumn, they are not up to the standard I require or expect. Does it sound too typical of me to say I find the young staff lack the regime and backbone we had when we took on our roles? As a young footmen I never dared step a foot out of line for fear of a clip round the ear. Perhaps I am softening in my old age and haven't quite prepared them with my usual strictness; note this will be rectified before Christmas.

I hope you were able to tackle The Great Hall as you wanted, I am sure it will shine again once you are through with it. May I also write that I am happy you have been enjoying the fine weather and quieter days, and your time with Mrs. Patmore and Mr. Mason, he is a kind and hardworking man, that I will admit.

It is late once again and I must do the room checks before bed so I shall bid you goodnight and write again towards the end of the week.

Yours with affection,

Charles Carson.


	6. Chapter 6

**6.**

Dear Charles,

Last night three badgers appeared in our back garden. I believe two are the ones who have visited us for the past few months, and the third is their offspring, for it is only small. I must say I felt almost giddy when I spotted them from the kitchen window and spent quite a while watching their exchange. I happened to have vegetables and bread leftover from dinner, I had forgotten I am only cooking for one, and so I tiptoed outside to lay it down for them. It was gone the following morning. I know you may not encourage feeding them but I hope you will forgive me, I could not help myself.

I do not believe I have mentioned this before, but I sometimes miss the interaction with animals I had growing up on the farm. My father was a firm believer in being up with the sun, which is perhaps why I have never struggled with that as some of the younger staff do; indeed I would often have milked cows and cleaned out the chickens before breakfast. I do not often think of Argyll, I certainly haven't thought of it as 'home' for many years now, but occasionally I miss elements of it and seeing those animals made me think of the farm and my parents. It affected me so much I felt a desire to bake something my Mother would often make and so I took the quiet solitude of Sunday afternoon to myself and worked in our little kitchen making shortbread. I am faintly proud of the results and so have packaged some up for you to send alongside this letter. I do hope you approve for I have not made it in many years.

Mr. Carson I cannot believe that any of your staff have not been trained to the highest standards. I can, however, believe that the warm nights and long busy days take their toll on even the most dedicated and conscientious of people, yourself included. I also am familiar with the fact that the long hours mean you often overlook your own wellbeing and, as your loving wife, I must insist you rest. I wish to hear that you have taken a least a few hours to yourself at some point during the week.

It is very late here but I am finding it difficult to sleep; there are owls in the trees tonight and it is fine and dry with a gentle breeze in the lush trees. I was listening to their murmurings and my mind was wandering, hence the fact I am now writing to you instead of sleeping – no doubt I shall regret it in the morning. I do hope my handwriting is legible for I am leaning on a tray on my knees. Your side of the bed is empty and it surprises me how quickly I had gotten used to saying goodnight with you next to me.

With love,

Elsie Carson.


	7. Chapter 7

**7.**

Dear Elsie,

Unfortunately, business is the first order. I may have to call upon yourself, along with some of the staff left behind, to support in an upcoming event. His Lordship has decided to host a weekend extravaganza and we are direly in need of your expertise and appreciation of what is required of such an event. Forgive me for mentioning this now, his Lordship only informed me of the plans this evening and it is on my mind I suppose.

I must rest, I can hear your voice telling me so.

Your shortbread was a treat indeed, and I must commend you on the packaging which meant it arrived here undamaged. I enjoyed it that very evening as I took my tea and finished my diary entries and it was exquisite. I believe I do understand your points about being out in nature, and as I read your descriptions of the sounds outside our little cottage I could almost hear it, could almost share it with you.

You may smile but I rather enjoyed too the image of you writing to me from the comfort of our bed. It is quite silly of me to feel hard done by but returning to the small single in an attic room makes my limbs ache for the space we have. There is little light in the upper echelons of the house, no doubt as you remember, and as I lie there I think of the way the moonlight comes into our room and scatters across the bed. You will have most certainly opened the window slightly on these warm nights and the curtains may whisper in the lightest of breezes. I miss the scent of our room.

Forgive an old man, I am sharing the wanderings of my mind with the person that is most precious to me. Forgive me, my Elsie.

Charles Carson


	8. Chapter 8

**8.**

Dear Charles,

You might as well know I smiled throughout your last letter. I have indeed been sleeping with the window ajar; I will think of your words now each time I open it. I too remember the stifling heat of those attic rooms at the height of summer, but I think the thing that lingers the most in my memory is the stairs. Endless stairs at the end of a long day, I am not one to complain but I do so enjoy having only one short flight to climb.

I have completed the rota and enclosed it, as requested, for the winter months. Anna's absence has been accounted for, I believe she will be back to minor duties quite soon after the event but, nevertheless, have planned to cover her just in case. The maids are rather excited at the prospect of a baby, even though it is as yet so early in the process. Anna is such a slight of a girl that the smallest change is noticeable and now, at three months or so, she is beginning to show. I know you will find talk of this nature uncomfortable so I will cease. One final comment, I shall soon begin knitting for her; your input on colour would be gratefully received.

I find myself rather torn about what to write here; we spoke on the telephone early this morning regarding arrangements and it was something of a balm to hear your voice. Yet our conversation was so focussed on the family and the July plans that we quite overlooked sharing our own news. If I am honest it is quite jarring to read your sentiments in the letters you write and not to share them in voice. I have reconciled myself with the fact that this is no different to our day-to-day personas and that our private feelings are often confined to one time and one place. I do believe these letters have replaced our late night talks. It is something I am grateful of because, in short my darling, I am beginning to miss you so terribly.

Your loving wife,

Elsie Carson.


	9. Chapter 9

**9.**

My dearest Elsie,

My apologies for the tardiness in my reply. Be assured I read your last letter eagerly, and I have re-read it several times since. Finding time to reply has proven difficult over the past week as we have entertained scores of fine families and my time hasn't been my own.

Thank you for the prompt reply to my request for a rota. I concur, it is right to plan for her absence just in case.

Time drifts on, my darling wife, and I feel your absence keenly. My apologies that this isn't conveyed in my letters or, perhaps more practically, shared over the telephone. I could not bring myself to share sentiments on such an infernal contraption. I so enjoy reading your letters; quite frankly our correspondence is a lifeline. Our letters have become a precious and private moment that passes between us, just as our nightcaps used to. They bring life to my day. Perhaps I have never mentioned this before, even though we are now married and there is not a soul I am closer to, but for many years our nightcaps brought me such joy that when one was missed it threw my entire being out of kilter. Simply being near you lights up my day. I do not share these feelings often enough, and I know that I do so clumsily when I try, so much so that I often back away from speaking such fragrant lines to you. I have often thought that there is no need to speak of such thing because you knew, from my heart to yours.

Robert Browning once wrote: ' _When the heart is full it may run over; but the real fullness stays within'_. We are apart yet my love for you beats ever stronger with each passing day. My words are simply lines on a page, but they are full of heart and truth my dear.

One final point, I would suggest blue.

Your ever loving,

Charles Carson.


	10. Chapter 10

**10.**

Late June, 1925

Dear Charles,

It is late and I am in the back yard. It has been a gloriously hot day, the kind of day where the grass stands still it is too tired to move in the heat. All seems so very quiet on days like this, even those cats from the village who gather in the yard begging for scraps have been absent. Which you will, no doubt, be glad to hear. No sign of the badgers again neither, sadly. I have watered the roses and pottered around this evening disposing of weeds in our tiny garden; it seemed far too lovely a night to work or lock myself indoors and so I am enjoying the cool breeze as I sit here writing to you.

My darling Charlie, your kind words touched my heart. I too am far too old for sentimentality or folly, yet the weeks seem to lengthen with each day you are away. I have chastised myself on more than once occasion over the past few days for feeling this way; a kind of melancholic daydream keeps slipping over me, hastened by the hazy weather and the stillness of the house. We have worked together for over twenty years and I have never felt this way during the season. I can only conclude this is the result of marriage; I never dreamed it would change me in such a way. It is more than simply loving you, though I do, it is the simple pleasure of being together, our companionship, the ease I feel in your company. For so many years _Elsie_ has been content to be Mrs. Hughes, and in such a relatively short space of time I feel I can be open and free with you. More myself.

I miss your company and your wise words. The sound of your voice in the halls.

It seems only appropriate for me to choose Barrett Browning in response to you: _'_ _For Life in perfect whole_ _,_ _And aim consummated, is Love in sooth.'_ And I write the truth to you, forgive me if it is too sentimental and indulge my whimsical nature on this summer night.

With my deepest love,

Elsie Carson.


	11. Chapter 11

**11.**

Early July, 1925

Dearest Elsie,

It is now over two months since we were together, and I feel your absence as keenly as a slice from the letter opener. Your last letter brought on feelings I often push aside. I miss the sound of your voice too, the curl of letters upon your tongue, the familiar ring of your heels on the flagstones of the hallway.

Companionship, I have always thought, is far more valuable than romance. I realise now this was foolishness on my part for the two are as closely linked as the sun is to the moon. I am no wordsmith, but I have read widely, and now as I write to you I feel language come to me like clouds travelling across the endless blue of the Yorkshire sky. Your face comes to me in dreams. I find myself thinking of your hands, nimble and quick as you write, soft and gentle.

Late nights and your letters lead my mind to stray, yet I know you will forgive my rambling thoughts, my myriad of emotions, work is endless and though I usually thrive on the demands I find myself almost distracted by thoughts of you. Our marriage has been the most fulfilling joy of my life, and I am eager to be home and return to discovering what it holds for us together. As we are being honest and revealing our 'truth' in these letters, I feel bold enough to enquire upon an issue which has occasionally occupied my mind. Following my proposal you breathed the words, 'I thought you'd never ask.' I have wondered when and how you knew, for I believed my feelings towards you were buried so deeply even my own heart was unsure of its truth.

Take care, my darling, I look forward to hearing again from you.

Charles.


	12. Chapter 12

**12.**

Early July, 1925

Dear Charlie,

Rest assured there was no sign of 'rambling' in your last letter. In truth, it moved me to such an extent that I find myself responding before I even read the last sentence. Charles Carson, you bring eloquence and style to whatever you do, and your letters are beautifully crafted, engaging and moving. Indeed it is easy to forget how well read you are, and that you are the kindest, sweetest man I have ever met; you hide it well at times behind the gruff exterior, I know you will not mind my pointing that out.

As to your question, my dear was it not obvious to you for many, many years that my feelings for you went far beyond our working relationship? Of course we were friends, that came through time and circumstance. I respected you, and I had never worked so well with somebody else. It often seemed our thoughts were in sync. However, for many years I found myself thinking about you as more than a friend. I began to care about you and your well-being, more than I ought to perhaps. You may pride yourself on your ability to keep calm upon pressure, but occasionally your mask slips. There were the tiniest of gestures carried out on your part – a knowing glance in my direction, a shared insight. Did you think I didn't realise your intentions when you proposed purchasing a property or that I had never seen you sing? You sweet silly man.

It is raining heavily this evening and so I write from the comfort of your pantry and I hope you will not mind that I have helped myself to a drop of your sherry. It brings you closer to me, somehow. In this room are many memories of our time together; none more precious than the evening of your proposal. I too play that moment over in my mind, indeed if I close my eyes as I sit in here I can hear your words. To me, no sentence could be more perfectly formed. If the rain doesn't stop I shall stay at the house, perhaps right here in your chair, and return to working on the garments for Anna's baby; blue it is.

I wish you a restful night, my love,

Elsie.


	13. Chapter 13

**13.**

Early July, 1925

My darling Elsie,

I must admit I blushed somewhat reading your previous letter, though it is foolish of me to do so, I never realised my intentions towards you had been so painfully transparent. I do hope I never embarrassed you over the years, that was certainly never my intent, and, if I did, I apologise profoundly for putting you in an uncomfortable position.

Quite honestly, it would never occur to me that you witnessed my indiscretion and, again, I feel I must apologise for my off-kilter singing. As for the intent behind that moment, well, that I will not apologise for. We have never spoken of that time Elsie, truthfully I always believed one day we would find our way to it. Yet it was then, faced with the sheer terror of not having you in my life, that I realised how deeply my feelings ran for you. Of course, it had been coming about for many years, every time you smiled or the rare occasions I caught the sound of your laugh. Yet that time, standing on the outside of your pain, unable to offer comfort, that I realised I had fallen in love with you.

The image of you knitting whilst occupying the chair in my pantry fills me with such overwhelming comfort it is impossible to describe. No wonder I continue to fall.

Thomas has taken ill with a summer cold and I have sent him to bed with a fever, which means tonight I am short staffed and, despite the boy's sufferings, he is useful in his role. I have taken dinner in my room to have some solitude and this is where I write to you now. Apologies for the hurried tone of my scribblings and the untidiness of them, but I needed to empty my mind of the thoughts your letter brought.

Until we speak again, my dear, darling Elsie.

Charles.


	14. Chapter 14

**14.**

Early July, 1925

Charles. My sweet, dear man.

You are my husband and, as such, should never feel the need to apologise for your feelings towards me, and yet you did so repetitively in your last letter my heart ached for you. There has never been a moment that I have ever been embarrassed by you, and certainly not when I spied you singing. I was painfully aware of your concern for me during that time. I have never asked myself if I knew you loved me then, perhaps I did, perhaps I chose to confide in Mrs. Patmore instead of you for that very reason. It was easier. To see your pain would have devastated me and I didn't wish to change how you saw me. Arguably, I was short sighted, because now there is not a thing I would keep from you and no distance I wouldn't go to ease your pain.

This distance between us, physical and sharp, has helped to put the changes of this year into perspective. The proposal, the marriage, it came quickly after a lifetime of dancing around things. These were emotional, life-changing events and yet we handle change as we always do, with a stiff-upper-lip and a focus on doing the best job we possibly can. As I mentioned before, I am more myself now than I have ever been, and this time apart from you, ironically, has proven how much I need you. I am no longer ashamed to say that. They say marriage brings stability, and I wholeheartedly agree, but it has brought so much more than I could ever have imagined when you proposed all those months ago. I thank you for your patience and for loving me from afar for so many years; I thank you more for being the one to finally bring our feelings into reality.

I am sorry to hear about Thomas, I am sure a good night's rest and plenty of fluids will cure his fever. Tomorrow I must walk to the village, oddly enough I have run out of stamps. I have never written so voraciously in my entire life.

With all my love, your wife,

Elsie Carson.


	15. Chapter 15

**15.**

July, 1925

My darling wife,

Thank you for your kind and honest words, your letter forced me to reflect on certain things and realise a few home truths. The change we have experienced is indeed profound and perhaps I did not give myself, nor you, time to truly reflect on that and measure the impact of it. For me, things are quite simple: I have wanted you to be my wife for more years than I can count. I have dreamed of the moment you might care for me in the same way I do for you. Now, our life together is more than I could have ever dreamed it would be and I am so very proud to have you as my wife, my partner through this life.

Thomas is on the mend and back to work, thank goodness. Indeed things are ticking along nicely and I am, secretly, rather pleased with the job the staff have been doing as time has progressed. They are a fine bunch and I am in a bright enough mood to point that out, only to you mind.

This morning I took a turn around the streets, for it was my morning off and, despite the fact I wasn't going to take the time, I decided an hour or so to myself with my thoughts would be just the ticket. The memory that returned to me was of a beach, the rabble and rush of it all. I can still smell the sea, taste the salt in the air upon my tongue. And this moment of silent solitude, the two of us together, your voice cutting through my haze. I believe that was the first time I had seen your ankles, if it is not too forward of me to point out. Brighton took a piece of my heart that day.

London has always been an important place for me, full of life and opportunities. I used to thrive. The walk made me rethink things; perhaps it is for the young and I, regretfully, can no longer be called that. There is a note of melancholy to my writing I fear, and yet that is not my intention. My point is this, there were days I prayed to be taken to the city for the season, years I was eager to get away, how easy it was to leave the country and drown in the rush of it all. How important it made me feel. Now, I think of you, and I count the days until I take the train back to Yorkshire.

Until then, my love,

Your Charlie.


	16. Chapter 16

**16.**

July, 1925

My dearest husband,

The days are long and hot, perhaps more so with the house empty. I continue to push the staff that are here, indeed we have worked our way through three quarters of the rooms I wanted to tackle. However, like you there is a slight joy to my steps which has been absent for years and perhaps I am more lenient than I ought to be. I have granted them this Friday afternoon free to attend the Summer Fete, I hope you will not mind this indulgence. Mrs. Patmore and myself may also take ourselves along, I do believe Mr. Mason is planning to have a stall selling farm produce. Mrs. Patmore seems rather jolly about it all. I cannot deny her the opportunity to see him, nor the dream that one day she might not be alone, for I now know myself the joy marriage can bring.

Your memories of Brighton made me smile, it was not the first time we have held hands but it was the most significant and, like you, it is not a moment easily forgotten. Indeed, I believe I was trembling on the train journey home as I dozed in the carriage and dreamt of your hand on mine. You are quite the cheeky Charlie for remembering my ankles, Mr. Carson.

I took down the photograph we have from our time in Scarborough, no paddling in the sea there for it was far too chilly – remember how the wind cut down from the cliffs on the North bay? There is something about that picture though in front of our accommodation, something in the way your hand is on my elbow or the look on my face, it is something I have never seen in myself before. I remember our week alone with such fondness, I hope it will not be the last time we travel together and enjoy being alone. I too look forward to your journey back home and having your voice once again fill the halls.

For now I wish you good night, the sun set some time ago and yet I am still up and fussing in our cottage. I imagine you doing the same, working late into the night. We are much the same my love.

Yours Elsie Carson.


	17. Chapter 17

**17.**

Late July, 1925

Darling Elsie,

How wonderful of you to mention the photograph, it immediately came to mind and I could see it as clearly as if it were here with me. The week we spent on honeymoon was perhaps the most fulfilling of my life and we simply must have some time to ourselves at some point in the future. Despite my concerns you were right, the kitchen wasn't burnt to a crisp without us there.

I imagine too our little cottage and I do miss our home so very much. I had grown quite accustomed to relaxing in my chair of an evening, reading whilst you do the same, or darning, or baking. I will tell you a secret, Sunday afternoons have become my most favoured pastime for it is our time to spend a few hours as we will and I do so enjoy living as man and wife, enjoying the simple pleasure of being together. I must enquire after the badgers, I have not forgotten your excitement over seeing them and please do tell me all about the Fete.

After much perseverance I have completed Ulysses, though I did so only to please you, I must add. I can, at least, say that I have read it and offer an opinion should it come up in polite discussion. Though between you and I, well, the style for one thing is disjointed and lacks structure. Then there is the matter of some of the subject, I cannot believe this gibberish is regarded as Literature. Though I will grant the author one thing, I rather enjoyed the line concerning living a 'warm fullblooded life'; I agree with the sentiment.

No doubt we will speak again this week regarding the upcoming event, I look forward to hearing your voice and having your input on the organisation. Finally, if I caused offence I apologise for the mentioning of your ankles, though I do believe you were smiling when you wrote that; I take that image with me.

With my deepest love,

Charles Carson.


	18. Chapter 18

**18.**

Late July, 1925

Dearest Charles,

I am immensely proud of you for finishing Ulysses, even though I accept it is not your usual style. I am touched you did so to please me. I too finished your recommendation some weeks ago, I found it an interesting read, though I often feel there is one point of view presented on royalty which it is not polite to challenge. I shall say no more on the matter as I know we will disagree on it.

Most wonderfully the badgers have returned several times, sometimes the three together, but occasionally they return individually, I have seen the male one quite often. He is rather large and I do believe most of the homes on the estate must be feeding him. It is almost like having pets, Charlie dear. You will be pleased to hear that your roses are doing wonderfully, I wish I could send you a picture of them, hopefully with care they will survive until you return home.

The fete was a lovely affair and I did enjoy the time spent there. The staff were well behaved and all reported back at the house by the curfew I set. As for myself I only spent a short time there; Mrs. Patmore was quite entertained with Mr. Mason so it seemed acceptable for me to take a stroll around the stalls and return to the house. It is a queer feeling being married, and I do not mean that negatively, but to walk as a single woman, even an older woman with stature in the village, it quite different to walking the familiar streets as a wife. I still feel a thrill when anyone refers to me as 'Mrs. Carson.' There is a sense of grandeur connected to it, I feel, quality and conscientiousness resonate through that name, your name, and I am proud to call it my own now. I am equally proud to know the man behind those things, a kind, sweet man who makes me smile. A man who takes care of me.

Your ever-loving wife,

Elsie Carson


	19. Chapter 19

**19.**

Late July, 1925

My dearest,

Following our recent telephone conversation I have put into action our plan for the upcoming weekend celebrations. I agree it would be prudent for Daisy and Florence to accompany you; go ahead and make arrangements to take the 8:30 train and I will mobilise Arthur to collect you from the station.

I don't fully understand your comments in regards to there being 'one view' on our Royal Family. I believe you may be hinting towards our differences of opinion on such matters. I know you may feel my faith and support of the upper classes is futile and foolish, I can understand why, I am not such a dinosaur. However, it comforts me to know that despite our differences we remain so very close and that you can overlook my foolishness. I know at times you have despaired of me, and I often regret those moments, for I would never wish you to think poorly of me. I may be a proud, private man, but I too have a heart and presently it aches for you.

My darling, I can hardly wait to see you again. There are not words to fully describe how much I have missed you and longed for your presence. I miss you working by my side, the sound of your voice, your wise words and calming nature. Our quiet, intimate moments together, the warmth of your body sleeping beside mine. I must stop or I fear I will reveal too much and if these letters ever found their way to anyone but you my reputation would be sorely hit.

Until we meet again in person, my darling Elsie, take all my love.

Your Charlie.


	20. Chapter 20

**20.**

Early August, 1925

My dear husband,

I too anxiously await our meeting. It feels as if we have spent a lifetime apart, not merely months. Although I am happy in the cottage, comfortable and content, I miss sharing it with you. Tiny insignificant moments that may amount to little seem intensely valuable when with you. We pledged before God to spend our lives together as man and wife, and no promise has been easier to keep; I too am longing for the words in your letters to form with your wonderful voice. I long for your touch, for your love.

Charlie. You are the most generous, kind-hearted man I have ever met. I do not think your views foolish, they may differ from mine but they are yours and you have every right to hold opinions. I can only say that there have been times I have perhaps been a tiny bit jealous, and that reddens my cheeks to admit to it. I have wondered of your attachment to the family, it is awful for me to admit it but over the years I yearned for your attachment to them to be directed towards myself. Now, that is foolish of me to admit. The moment I recall, and it is perhaps even more foolish for me to hold this so close after all this time, I am not even sure you will remember. It was 1919 and you had decided to leave with Lady Mary, none of this came to fruition, but how keenly I felt your absence. I did not know, or I had not accepted, that you were so deep in my heart by then that the reality of your leaving Downton shook me so. I did not want to work with a new Butler, but more importantly, I did not want to sit beside a stranger every morning at breakfast. I remember the slightest hint of a smile that evening, the glare of sadness in your eyes as you made your decision and I knew then that I did not wish to live a life without you in it.

You are my life Charles. Whatever the future may bring, you and I are as closely entwined as any two people can be.

Last night I awoke in the early hours. It was hot, humid in the room, and for several minutes I was paralysed in bed. A crippling fear upon me. It was nothing but a dream but a profound one nevertheless, and I missed you then, the same tightness in my chest as came upon me that day in your pantry. My heart ached for your absence.

I have arranged tickets for the train and with a good journey we will be in London by midday. I do realise we will not be alone, and I do not wish you to worry or concern yourself with being a husband when we have such work to do. I am content to be working with you again and look forward to our return to Yorkshire and home.

All my love,

Your wife, Elsie.


End file.
